Pump and Dump
by Inks Inc
Summary: A torrid Thailand trek takes an excruciatingly embarrasing turn for one Christian Trevelyan-Grey.


"I cannot _believe_ this is happening."

Ana's giggles were met with a stony glare, which only made her giggle all the harder. A blue-rinsed old lady, with two feet in the grave, shot the two of them a scandalized look and shuffled a seat further down, clutching her bag of lemon drops in askance. Christian leaned backwards in his grimy hospital seat and whistled a hiss through his teeth. His wife, his newly wedded wife, was in line for the worst wife of the year award and _then_ some.

He shifted his watery ice pack and bit back a howl.

Ana was less successful in biting back her snigger.

The rural back-lands of Thailand were every bit as beautiful as they imagined, but as it transpired, medical miracles were pretty low down on the agenda. As too, was medical mediocrity and that mediocrity didn't care if one was Christian Grey or Ted Bundy, resources were resources. After languishing in a squalid waiting room for an hour and a half, unable to contact anyone who _was_ anyone, he had resigned himself to his fate in the telecommunications wasteland they currently called home. The newly minted Mr and Mrs Grey stared as the grungy green doors suddenly burst open. A haggard looking pensioner, who apparently served as the chief Attending, cast a wavering eye over the odd miss mash of waiting room occupants. His slow and pleasant south African accent drifted around the room.

"Mr Christoff Grey?"

He closed his eyes in chagrin and jerkily raised a hand.

"That's me, Christian Grey."

The doctor squinted down at his notes and raised a brow.

"Crispin?"

"No, Christian."

"Christina?"

Ana's laughter rang around in a shrill shriek.

He closed his eyes and kept his shit together with extreme difficulty.

"My name," he said loudly and slowly, "Is _Christian… Chris-tee-ann."_

The doctor blinked slowly.

"Ann?"

"Jesus Christ," he groaned as the entire waiting room unsuccessfully hid their laughter. "Fine, sure, Ann. Why not. Oh, and _this…_ this is my wife, _Ana."_

"Ann and Ana!" the medic exclaimed, "How _wonderful."_

He smiled with such buoyancy that Christian was tempted to break his teeth.

"Ok, Ann, well I'm sorry to tell you that you have a severe case of penile strain."

The blue-rinsed lady squawked like a parrot with a carrot up its ass and with bulging little eyes, toppled sideways in her bid to distance herself even further from the pair of filthy sex addicts. The rest of the room's patrons averted their eyes awkwardly, brimming with excitement about gossiping over this juicy piece of information later. Even those who didn't speak English as their native tongue knew enough to know that this particular diagnosis was worth talking about.

Ignoring Ana's trembling with laugher torso, Christian coloured to a fiery red.

"Don't you think… don't you think we should go to a consultation room?" he spluttered in horrified indignation, shifting his ice pack conspicuously. "This is _outrageous,_ do you know who I am, I'm-"

"Ann, Ann, Ann, my dear fellow," the kindly medic twinkled. "This _is_ the consultation room, for non-surgical cases that is. This is a simple but beautiful place and we are not so constricted by Western laws and regulations. Now, the proscribed form of treatment is-"

"Unnecessary to discuss because that _isn't_ the problem."

Dr Kent shook his head and clicked his pen with a jaunty little snap.

"I'm afraid it is. In fact, I must tell you Ann, that even for a young man of your stamina… one's penis is not bulletproof. Even the best guns need a little rest now and then, no? The rash you were concerned about is but a friction burn that should subside with a good old dose of abstention. Oh, and a medicated cream. Slather it on at night and you'll soon find that pipe is just ripe for summer sprinkling in no time. The odd bend you mentioned at the shaft of your penis is probably just a deformity. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know, because I know a lot of young men are very funny about things like this but rest assured Ann, having a deformed penis is _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

Ana choked.

She physically choked.

Her laugher wrapped itself around her innards like a rattle snake and compressed on her ability to keep it the hell together. Half stifling her laugher and half shrieking with it, she convulsed beside her gawping husband with stunted mirth, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even his glare couldn't control her and she merely laughed all the harder in his face.

Dr Kent wrote a script with a flourish and proffered it to a gormless Christian.

Who didn't take it.

Eying his young patient sympathetically, the medic handed the slip to Ana who accepted it with an incomprehensible gurgle. All eyes were on the overtly American couple and Christian grew ever hotter around the collar, his earlier enthusiasm for embracing alternative cultures flooding from him like a snapped drain pipe in Monsoon season. Suddenly feeling the need to bolt, he jumped to his feet and yowled in pain as his red-raw dick chafed against his shorts. Dropping the piss poor excuse for an ice pack on the floor, he grabbed a cackling Ana's hand and dragged her towards the entrance.

Dr Kent's voice halted them in their tracks.

"Wait, Ann, wait! You forgot this. You don't want to have to come all the way back now do you? Though I _must_ say young man, I really would advise against the repeat use of this product. With your apparent over use of your penis as it stands, the last thing you should be doing is dabbling in the augmentation of that which really ought not to be augmented."

The blue-rinsed lady snapped a hand to her mouth and shivered.

Ana shrieked like a banshee in heat as the entire waiting room sniggered covertly.

Glaring like he had never before glared in his entire exitance, Christian reached out and snatched the contraption from the well-intentioned but clueless medic and resolved to pay Flynn double the odds if he could hypnotise him into forgetting the trauma of Thailand. Pulling a snorting Ana behind him, he threw the recovered property into the first trash can with a deafening clang and growled viciously under his breath.

"I _told_ you I didn't want to try a fucking penis pump, Ana!"

….

A/N: Random One-Shot.


End file.
